Bottled Up
by Livelier
Summary: James somehow manages to get Lily to try Firewhisky, and her tongue gets a bit too loose... Oneshot! Rated T for safety. R&R?  Edited 6/13/12


**Update 6/13/12: **All the little grammatical and spelling errors have been fixed! I also moved a few sentences around and reconstructed some of the dialogue to flow better. Nothing too noticeable, though. Thanks for reading!_  
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_A/N: Hey guys! This isn't exactly Christmas themed or even holiday themed, but I wanted to post something...so here it is! R&R! _

_Disclaimer: Um, I own... okay, nothing._

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Bottled Up

I knew it. I knew it! From the very moment I laid eyes upon that blasted badge sparkling on his chest, I knew it would be a terrible year. Okay, maybe not _terrible,_ but it would have been much better if someone like Remus Lupin had been given that badge. I mean, honestly! James Potter as _Head Boy_? That's absolute madness! Surely Dumbledore must have been Imperiused when he made that decision. And it was probably Potter who did it! It all makes sense, doesn't it? Potter and his mates would want free reign and the ability to pull any pranks they wished without having to fear punishment. The ringleader of their little gang would be the perfect person to put all this in motion.

But I don't want to dwell on that.

So anyway, it didn't surprise me in the slightest to see James — he'd practically forced me into using his "mother-given" name — and his mates huddled around a circular table in our Head common room. They were all laughing loudly and rather hysterically over something I'm sure wasn't that funny.

As I ventured nearer, I noticed they were acting even stranger than usual, and that is saying something. Then I saw every one of them — even good, innocent, pure ole' Remus — raise the bottles they had in their hands, and James slurred, "To some of the best times we'll never remember!"

Fantastic philosophy.

Enraged, I marched right up to that table and fixed my icy glare on James. "What are you doing?" I demanded. My hands were on my hips. "I thought I told you nobody except us is allowed in here, Potter!" He didn't need to know that Alice, Emmeline, and Marlene often joined me when James was at Quidditch practice.

James blinked. "But you and your mates come in here all the time! Doesn't that make you a bit of a h-hyp-hypocrite?" He stumbled over that last word a few times before finally forcing it out.

Okay, so he obviously did know about our little gatherings.

"But we don't come here to _drink_, James!" I pointed out, flicking the glass bottle he held with the tip of my finger.

"It gives me Gryffindor courage!" James protested shrilly. His voice must have shot up three octaves.

I snorted. In that case, he must be a total drunk; there was never a time when he's _not_ full of courage.

"Gryffindor courage," I said, "does not come from a bottle labeled 'Firewhisky', James." And I plucked the bottle from his hands.

"Hey!"

Ignoring him, I turned to the rest of the Marauders and pointed to the door. They were looking far too happy, sitting there sipping on their Firewhisky, and watching James and I with rapt attention. "Out," I ordered. "Leave the Firewhisky."

Remus opened his mouth to protest but before he could speak, I jabbed my finger into his chest.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Remus. A Prefect and the Head Boy sharing a pint of Firewhisky!" I exclaimed, although the four of them had probably already consumed more than that. "You'd better hope I don't report this to Dumbledore, or worse—McGonagall."

He ducked his head and shuffled from the room, followed by a stumbling Sirius, and Peter, who was practically crawling.

When they were gone, I sighed and sat down on the couch next to James with his bottle of Firewhisky in my hand. I kicked off my shoes and rested my feet on the coffee table. James followed my example, and began loosening his tie and unbuttoning his pressed white shirt.

All the while, I stared at the bottle in my hand, considering it, sizing it up. To drink, or not to drink? It was the ultimate question.

James took out his wand and Summoned one of the full bottles from the table where they had sat just a few minutes earlier. Without any hesitation, he took a long swig of the Firewhisky. I watched him wince slightly as the alcohol burned down his throat.

He noticed me staring, and rolled his eyes as if to say, "I'll be fine; I have a high alcohol tolerance" and gestured to the bottle I clutched tightly between my fingers.

"Go on, Lils," he prodded. "It will help with the stress."

I sent him a reproachful glare. "I will not drink away my problems, James. That will only lead to alcoholism, which is just as much of a drug as marijuana is."

James rolled his eyes at me again. "Don't be such a prude, Lily," he told me. "Besides, it's not like you know how to get your hands on this stuff even if you wanted to."

"No, but you do," I pointed out.

"That's true," mused James aloud, "but between NEWTs and Quidditch and Head duties, I hardly have the time to sneak into Hogsmeade and chat up Rosmerta in order to get some Firewhisky. In turn, there would be an extreme shortage of supplies, therefore saving you from becoming an alcoholic."

"You have to flirt with Rosmerta to get this stuff?" I wrinkled my nose. "Isn't she, like, _thirty_?"

James rolled his eyes yet again. If he kept that up, they were going to roll right out of his head. "It's surprisingly easy, actually. I reckon she's rather lonely, working at the bar all the time. Sometimes I feel bad for her. But that's besides the point."

"Yes, but it's still rather strange, don't you think?" I asked, still dwelling on the fact that James had to actually _flirt_ with her.

"Just drink the damn whisky before I do," he instructed.

"Touchy touchy — okay, drinking!" I added quickly upon seeing his glare.

I closed my eyes and pressed the bottle to my lips. The cold glass was oddly comforting — like drinking my favorite soda when I'm at home — and it gave me the courage to tip the bottle back further and allowed the liquid to run into my mouth.

It burned and seared my throat on its way down, like I had just swallowed that nasty hot lemon juice stuff that Mum always gave me when I had a sore throat.

I coughed and spluttered as the rest of it drained down my throat, leaving flames in its wake.

"Blimey, that's awful!" I said, frowning at the brown bottle, not believing something so disgusting could come out of it. "What is in that stuff?"

James laughed and took another drink of his own. "It's an acquired taste."

"Obviously," I muttered.

Nevertheless, I tipped the bottle back again. And then again and again.

"You were right, James," I giggled a little while later. "This really does take the edge off things. I feel like I'm seeing the world in a whole new light!" A blurry light, yes, but a new one all the same.

James gave me a strange look and took my now mostly empty bottle away from me. "Okay, I think that's enough for one night..."

I smiled and rested my head on his shoulder. "I'm glad you made me try it, James, thank you."

James grimaced, and mumbled something that sounded like, "You won't be saying that in the morning." He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close.

"This is nice don't you think?" I asked him as I wrapped my arms loosely around his torso.

James grunted and averted his gaze to the fire. The flames danced in his hazel eyes. "And now I know you're drunk."

"I am not drunk!" I protested, although I wasn't so sure.

"Don't kid yourself, Lily. You know you wouldn't be saying any of that without the Firewhisky," James muttered darkly.

"Yes, I would!" I argued fiercely, not totally aware of what I was saying.

He was still staring away from me, entranced by the leaping flames. I grabbed his face and directed it towards mine.

"Just stop, Lily," James said, glaring at me. "Stop." His eyes closed and he gritted his teeth. The muscle in his jaw was jumping from the strain.

"Not until you understand," I whispered.

A sharp pain was beginning to form behind my temple. Was it the Firewhisky or the bickering? One could never tell.

James didn't speak to me; he kept his arms stubbornly crossed and his jaw locked.

"Do you honestly think I would be sitting here with you if I hate you? Merlin, do you reckon I would even _tolerate_ being a Head with you if I despised you as much as I said?"

Holy Hell. The pain was growing, and the words that were pouring out without my consent were not helping the matter.

My voice laughed humorlessly. "No. I never hated you. I _envied_ you."

James's head snapped up. "What?"

I stood up, and wandered over to the table and grabbed another bottle off of it. Thinking it might help the headache, I unscrewed the top with great effort and took a swig of the whisky.

"How could I not envy the great James Potter?" I continued mindlessly. "Top grades, loved by nearly everyone, good-looking, star Quidditch player... And there's me: pathetic Lily Evans.

"Sure, I'm just as smart as you, but not without work. But _you_...you didn't even have to try and you had it all. Not to even _mention_ — oh!"

Amidst my dramatic arm-waving and chugging of Firewhisky, the bottle had slipped from my hands and fallen to the floor. I stared sadly at the shattered glass on the ground and the soaking section of carpet.

A steady stream of obscenities left my mouth.

James, who had sauntered over to me sometime in the last few minutes, smirked. "No, go on, I insist. It's not good to keep things all bottled up inside like that."

I started to glare at him but then I remembered that my bottle — Darla, I had decided to call her — still had a few friends left intact, and I could no longer continue my monologue I was giving James once that happy thought entered my brain.

I picked up the next bottle, and turned back to James. Curiously enough, he had his wand raised and was pointing it at me with a barely concealed grin on his face.

"Lily, as your envy-worthy friend, I promise this is for your own good," James said, uncharacteristically serious.

There was a bang, a flash of red light, and then nothing.

When I awoke the next morning it was by means of one killer headache. I groped around my bedside table, and found a small bottle of pills. Attached to the bottle was a little note.

_Lily,_

_Enjoy your breakfast (on the foot of your bed). It's sausage and pancakes — your favorite. I enjoyed our little chat last night. Hogsmeade this weekend? Brilliant!_

_Love,_

_James_

Gah! Bloody wanker.

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_A/N: So I quite liked it, how about you? I read all my oneshots the other day (which took a while) and most of them end in James and Lily kissing, which is all fine and dandy, but sometimes I just like to change it up a bit. But anyway, let me know what you thought in a review! They really do light up my day. Thanks everyone!_

_Happy Holidays!_


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